


Secret Wings

by Serena_Rose



Category: The Good Place (TV)
Genre: AU where Hellstrop happened instead of Cheleanor, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cute, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Hellstrop, F/M, Fluff, Romance, Trust Issues, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:14:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26565676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serena_Rose/pseuds/Serena_Rose
Summary: If the demons in the Good Place universe had wings, what would Michael's look like? Eleanor is curious but her boyfriend is shy.
Relationships: Michael (The Good Place)/Eleanor Shellstrop
Comments: 7
Kudos: 59





	Secret Wings

**Author's Note:**

> Silly little wing-fic purely for fluff purposes that was inspired by this wonderful drawing by Star-Pepper, an illustration for Synesthesisa by Cecret: https://star-pepper.tumblr.com/post/629589181022322688/time-for-exciting-stories-at-the-end-of-august-i?is_highlighted_post=1

It had almost been awesome enough to make Eleanor forget the fact that she’d just been punched in the face.

After ‘Linda’ had snapped, socked Eleanor square in the nose and then sent Michael flying, the round old woman’s skin-suit had been shed to reveal her former fake soul mate and gym addict, Chris. Once again, thank every forking Good Place employee, shirtless. Hot damn, Eleanor had forgot how buff that demon was. That might have been enough, along with the shock and confusion, to distract her from the pain shooting up the centre of her face, until the next thing happened.

A pair of large wings stretched out from the demon’s bare back, lined with glossy, jet-black feathers. They gave a quick shake and then flapped, furious and desperate, sending Chris soaring into the air and launching himself into whatever flying Janet babies were closest. Bodies began to fall like fake-human missiles to the ground after he was done punching them out of the sky.

Holy shirt…

It’s safe to say this was the very last thing Eleanor expected to see today.

She has to tear her eyes away from the disaster to go over to Michael whose still sat on the ground, looking rather shell-shocked at having a ‘frail elderly human’ knock him off his feet.

“Okay so,” She took a sniff, checking to make sure her nose wasn’t broken, “Maybe she’s less boring than I thought.”

*

“How’s the nose?” asked her demon boyfriend, taking a seat on the edge of her desk after they had come back from putting Chris on a train back to the Bad Place.

“Better. Can’t speak for my pride but, I’ll get over it.” Janet was able to take the pain away and reassure her that an instant nose job wasn’t needed, “How’s the…everything?” Eleanor asks Michael.

“Oh, no need to worry there. These skin suits are incredibly durable and regenerate damage almost instantly.” He waves off; “Lucky for me, given how many times you guys attacked me with some very sharp kitchen utensils during those reboots.”

“Still not apologising for that, bud.” She quips, getting to her feet.

Eleanor lets out a heavy sigh, still annoyed and disappointed with herself for not seeing through the Bad Place’s obvious trick earlier. Moving closer to Michael, she reaches out to adjust his bowtie before fiddling with the rest of the buttons below.

“I feel like such an idiot.” She confesses, keeping her voice low, only for him to hear. Confiding her insecurities to Michael is hard enough, she doesn’t need the others listening in and doubting her more.

The true Architect takes her hand in his.

“Hey, we were all duped by Linda. Even Janet feels terrible, she thought she knew all about Linda’s Earth life, it turned out there is a real Linda in the Bad Place, they just copied her skin.” He explains to her.

“Wow, now I feel sorry for real Linda.” As well as everyone else who has died over the past half a century. Even if the real Linda was as dull as dishwater, it was unlikely she deserved whatever the Bad Place was doing to her…hopefully not tearing her skin off to make into a demon’s clothes.

“I’m just sorry I let him hurt you and I wasn’t able to stop him. He just caught me completely off guard!” Michael says with a guilty cringe; “Sneaky shirt-bag, I would’ve liked to have torn those wings of his off!”

Her hand slips from his, sliding up his shoulders and around his neck as she leans in closer, her thighs grazing against his knees as he stays perched on the desk.

“It’s fine, dude. I don’t need you protecting me or defending my honor or any of that shirt.” She reassures him, her nose barely an inch from his, “I can take a punch from a demon and stay standing while you fell at my feet. I think you’re the one who needs me to protect you, hmm?”

It’s a moment she almost misses as she moves in to kiss him gently, that quick blush in his cheeks, either from embarrassment or flattery, she doesn’t dare to ask. Even she’s aware that this isn’t the right time to tease him with his ego currently cracked. Her lips seek to reassure him, smoothing against his own, leaning in more when she feels his hand move onto her shoulder, those long fingers curling around to her back.

They spend nearly two minutes in that position, nicely aligned so Eleanor doesn’t have to lean up on her tip toes when she kisses him, the tip of her nose brushing against his cheek before she moves back, her hands continuing to fiddle with his shirt collar. She deserves another sash for resisting the urge to undo his bow-tie right now and pin him down to the desk.

Later, damn it, they have work to be getting on with.

“Speaking of those wings, though…Is that a common demon attribute?” She asks, her curiosity having been peaked since the moment Chris whipped those bad boys out.

Michael hums, giving a small nod; “All demons and angels grew wings back in the early two thousand…B.C.” He emphasises; “It was our way of transportation before the interdimensional train service, as well as the Janet upgrade letting us fly or teleport. They’re basically obsolete now, like Betamax or LiveJournal, but some still like to show them off for fashion sake.”

“They were pretty cool, I gotta admit. I wouldn’t mind seeing you flash yours for me?”

Michael’s lips form an ‘O’ before he takes her hand that had been sneaking back around to his shoulder blade, moving it back to her front.

“No.”

“What? Why?”

“We already had Chris nearly spoil the experiment! We were lucky none of the humans saw that, we shoudn’t risk anything else.” He tries to shuffle off the desk but Eleanor moves in closer, her hands on his knees.

“Bullshirt, we’re indoors! And even if one of the humans did come in, they think we’re both immortals, so they would expect that kinda stuff from one of us.” She might have to gain a pair herself, just a brief pair, artificially, so as to match her assistant. Janet can surely whip some up for her, preferably to match her hair, or maybe silver?

This is definitely on the list of crazy things Eleanor didn’t know she wanted to experience in Heaven until today.

“I’d really rather not. I haven’t shown my wings to anyone in two thousand years. Please, Eleanor.” A blush fills his cheeks again as he looks away, sliding out and getting to his feet.

Her heart twinges with the worry she’s upset him or made him comfortable.

“What’s wrong? I mean…we’ve talked about what’s under your suit before.” She tries to sooth; “I know it’s impossible for me to see the whole fire squid thing but, like I’ve said a thousand times, I’m not bothered by that! And I doubt a pair of awesome wings are gonna be as deadly as flaming, toothy tentacles.”

“It’s different, I…” He does that thing where he runs his hand through his hair that makes her want to grab him again; “…Not all demons wings grew the same, okay? They grew out of our demon essence in all shapes and sizes. Some, like Chris, got these super cool giant raven wings, others like Shawn got more pterodactyl kind…”

“So, they’re like boobs? Are you embarrassed because you didn’t hit the same bra size as the other cheerleaders?” Eleanor smirks, teasing a little; “We’ve all been there, bud, and it was eons ago, no one really cares! Size really, really, doesn’t matter…Unless you’re six thousand feet tall and your girlfriend is a fly next to you, but we even have a way to work around that so don’t worry.”

Michael shows his hands; “You’re right, it’s not a big deal, so we can just drop it! Right?”

She would be happy too, only now his reluctance has made her want them more. _What are you, a child, Shellstrop?_ Yes, mentally.

“Is that the only reason you won’t show me? Because you’re shy? C’mon, that’s not fair, I showed you all my embarrassing tattoos!” Even the one proclaiming her undying love for the Rock after she lost a bet.

“I just think we have more important matters at hand, right now. We’re supposed to be going to Mindy’s so we can debrief with the others about what our plan is now that Chidi is one of the test subjects. And we should really see if Janet has any methods to protect us from more Bad Place meddling.”

He straightens up and fixes his collar after Eleanor has been ruffling it up and down for the past couple of minutes, suddenly towering over her again, as if making a show of him being the rational grown up taking charge. Eleanor rolls her eyes, defeated by his rational argument, yet again.

“Fine, you’re right. The others will be wondering where we are…” She moves to the door; “Though, we could get there much quicker if you fly us-.”

“Nice try. No.”

He opens the door and gently nudges her through.

“Worth a shot.”

*

It’s good to have a hobby in between work and when your work is trying to save humanity, there needs to be a rather exciting hobby to fill in the gaps between work and sleep. Trying to get Michael to show her his wings had become just that.

First thing she does, when her boyfriend is busy announcing Talking To Animals day to the neighbourhood, is ask Janet if there is a way to provoke a demon into revealing their wings. Unfortunately it seems to be the same deal as the skin suit, only Michael has the ability to get them out, however they can sometimes appear without direct intent, kind of like a sneeze or a laugh that makes someone squirt milk out their nose.

Eleanor tries to make him jump, entering the office loudly and unannounced, but the doofus’ extra senses usually detect her coming a mile off. One day, when they’re both sat quietly reading, she pretends to suddenly scream at a ‘terrifying’ part of her book, which gets him to finally sit up in shock, but no sign of wings. Only hiccups. Damn it!

She even tries giving the secretive demon a massage one evening at her place, taking the moment with his shirt off and laying across her bed to gently rub upward from the small of his back, hoping her ministrations might trigger something. She doesn’t care if the stupid things whack her in the face, so long as she gets to see them, just once! She doesn’t give a fork if they’re a tiny pair of chicken wings or cute penguin flappers, she wants to get a look and touch so she can show her ridiculously insecure lover that he’s got nothing to be embarrassed about.

“I know what you’re doing.” Michael mumbles with his cheek pressed into their mattress.

“What? Trying to take all your stress away?” She replies, so innocent.

“You never offer to massage me. You always say that you’ve forgot to trim your nails, or that you’ve got too much static from rubbing a balloon.” He relays her poor excuses with an amused smirk.

Truthfully, she simply didn’t trust herself to do a good job, especially when Michael was such a master masseur. It wasn’t fair. The guy could see in nine dimensions, read auras and had studied her entire psychology, he literally knew exactly which buttons to press on both her body and her brain to get her to feel the peak of blood-bubbling pleasure. What could she do to compare to that? Just poke and prod and hope for the best going on how much her demon boyfriend moans or winces? It was so much more work on her end, she should get some sort of aura x-ray specs from Janet or something.

It might even make the experiment easier when observing the humans. There, she’s not just a cheater, she does spare the odd thought for the important work they’ve got on their plates.

“Just wanted to do something nice for you. No ulterior motive.” She promises, pressing her fingertips a little harder beneath what could possibly be some sort of scar or groove near his shoulder.

“I know you’re trying to see my wings.”

“Okay, one ulterior motive.”

Michael rolls onto his back and looks up at her, his arms folded back above his head; “Can’t you just let it go?”

“No, I can’t. I’m gonna keep trying so you might as well make it easier and just…pop ‘em out.” She takes a seat on his abdomen and strokes her hands up his chest, thumbs rubbing beneath his calvical and then to the base of his neck.

Michael sighs, looking as though he’s starting to wear down, maybe?

“Why is it so important to you?” He asks, that serious look in his eyes more visible with his glasses neatly folded away on the bedside table.

Does she really need to explain that?

Eleanor bends down and kisses his bottom lip before meeting his eyes again, one finger stroking behind his ear.

“You’re important to me, idiot. Anything that’s a part of you is important to me.” She whispers, closely, finishing with a light kiss to his nose.

His fingers journey up to glide through her hair.

“Any other reason?”

“Yeah…Trust.” She confesses, sitting back up. He frowns at that, shuffling onto his side.

“You think I don’t trust you?” He asks.

She shrugs; “I can’t help but feel like you’ve kept some things from me. I’m not trying to accuse you of anything, I just…I guess you showing me these things you say you’ve never shown anyone before, it would not only make me feel privileged but also show how much you trust that I would be okay with it.”

There’s a hanging tension left in the air as he looks at her, his eyes darting from her own down to her lips that had been tasting his mere moments before. His hand moves up to press his own chest and Eleanor can tell by now that means he’s regretting something. She doesn’t press, merely stares at him, gives him the chance to relieve that burden on his own. If he wants.

He takes a breath and looks down at the mattress.

His hand moves to his neck, briefly, before he seems to realise that he’s already half-dressed and doesn’t have a bow-tie on that needs loosening. It’s merely his own anxiety leaving him short of breath.

“Shawn called me before we started the experiment. He told me that he’d had his guys make an identical ‘Michael-suit’ to the one I wear, only Vicky is the one inside.” He explains, catching Eleanor off-guard; “He made it so that, when…if we lose the test, you guys think that I’m the one torturing you. It freaked me out so much that I…had a nervous breakdown…the one you saw, when you had to…”

Oh.

Okay. That was definitely not the kind of reveal she was either expecting or hoping to get.

“Hold up. They basically made a clone of you…and you didn’t think to tell me?” She frowns, unable to deny the sting in her chest.

He reaches for her hand, “I wanted to, Eleanor, I…Wait, no, that’s a lie, I didn’t want you to know, because I was scared you guys would spend all this time paranoid that I’d been switched with some fake trying to sabotage us. Also, Shawn said he was just going to erase the memory of me telling you when you go to the Bad Place, so there was no point…But I know it’s no excuse.”

The anger simmering in her veins starts to cool when she catches a glimpse of the unshed tears shining in his eyes.

“You’re right, I didn’t trust you like I should have, after what you said about my friends always trusting me…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”

“Hey…” Eleanor shuffles close and gathers the quickly crumbling immortal into her arms; “It’s okay, bud. I get it, I do. Fork…I wish you had told me, especially now we know what dirty tricks Shawn is willing to play with us…But I get it. And I’m glad you told me.”

She hears him sniff as his hands grab onto her back, his face burrowing into her shoulder.

“I want you to be able to trust me…It’s the most important thing to me, to know you guys feel you can rely on me and I won’t let you down, because I won’t. I’d sooner be retired than do anything to hurt you…”

“I know.” She whispers, stroking the back of his hair, feeling suddenly so sorry for pushing him to this.

But better that it’s out there. Now they can be one step ahead of those losers.

“Forget the wing thing, man.” Eleanor relents, pulling back from the hug and hooking her arms around his neck; “If you’re not comfortable showing them to me, for whatever reason, that’s cool. I can see enough of the real Michael here in front of me. And you’ve just proven how much you trust me to believe in you so…” She caresses his damp cheek, sweeping a stray tear away.

Michael smiles; “…So we’re good?”

She grins and nods; “Oh yeah. We’re good. Now c’mere.”

Her arms bring him close into another kiss, her legs moving around his waist as she positions herself on his lap. She can let the wings go, for now, but in return he better make her scream the whole of Heaven down with the best set of orgasms that a reformed demonic lover can deliver.

*

As it turns out, all Eleanor needed was to be a little bit patient. Good things truly come to those who wait.

Barely a few weeks later, they had taken the humans out for paragliding atop one of the cliffs overlooking the ocean. Eleanor and Michael were busy checking the safety procedures while Jason kept distracting Janet, trying to get her to talk about their relationship, or lack of thereof. The Florida dude has been getting frustrated lately with Janet’s refusal to give him a second chance or even know where they stand, as he’s confided in Eleanor and Tahani a few times over the past recent weeks. Eleanor hates that they have to focus so much on the experiment that she can’t help her friends out more but, they do have to prioritise here.

It would help if Janet wasn’t quite as harsh or cold as she seems to be lately. Sure, the stress of the experiment is getting to them all, especially with how little progress they seem to be making. But, as she and Michael talked out at the beginning of this all, it’s important that they trust each other and work together. The easiest way to let the Bad Place win was to turn on each other.

So when she sees the squabble between Janet and Jason turn into what almost looks like a heated fight, at as much angry as a mellow head like Jason would allow himself to get, she leaves the humans in Michael’s hands and goes to sort things out between the two of them.

“Hey, dinguses, what the fork are you doing?! We can’t have a resident having drama with a Janet in full view of the humans!” Eleanor hisses at the two of them.

“Don’t worry, Eleanor.” Janet holds her thumb in her other hand and gives her a smile; “It’s nothing! Just a misunderstanding and Jason is letting it go.”

“No I’m not! Because you’re not Janet!” Jason points at her.

Eleanor blinks.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“This ain’t our Janet, my girlfriend, I’m sure of it!” Jason tells her again.

“Yeah but you were also sure that Blake Bortles would be knighted and he’s not even British, so I’m gonna need more than just a hunch, bro.” Eleanor states.

“I always call Janet ‘girl’ and she says ‘not a girl’, remember?” Jason tells her; “But this Janet doesn’t! And there’s all sorts of little things that don’t seem like her, like how mean she is and how she won’t let us have chocolate rain!”

“That was never a thing but…”

Eleanor looks at Janet. Suddenly, that niggling feeling she’s had in the back of her neck for all these weeks stops. As if she’s finally honed in on the source of her suspicions. Janet’s plastic grin slowly fades as she recognises the realisation in Eleanor’s eyes.

The not-robot rolls her eyes and slumps her shoulders, like a sulking teen.

“Ah, fart knockers. It was fun while it lasted.” Bad Janet’s obnoxious tone escapes her lips.

Before Eleanor can say another word, she’s being grabbed by her shirt and thrown back towards the edge of the cliff. Oh shirt, shirt! Fork! Her hands scramble to grab onto nothing, fear clutching at her throat as the ground leaves her feet when she falls backwards off the edge of the cliff.

Janet’s cruel smirk and Jason’s horrified glance before he snaps what looks to be a pair of handcuffs on her are all she sees before gravity takes hold of her.

“MICHAEL!”

It’s barely five seconds of falling, unable to stop herself from looking down and seeing those jagged rocks at the bottom get closer and closer to her flailing feet, that feel like the longest of her existence, at least since she was sent hurtling through an interdimensional portal.

Shirt, this is gonna hurt! She knows she won’t die but, fork it, it might be even worse than death, oh fork! She’ll take being run over by another boner-pill truck over what’s to come-

“Gotcha!”

A pair of arms snap firmly around her and hold her tight, halting her descent into her pointy, splattering fate below.

What…

She grabs onto the torso of her saviour, her mind taking less than a second to figure out who it is, before she cares to try to work out the logistics of what allowed him to get to her in time, considering she very much doubts that he would persuade an evil Janet to give him access to fly in such as short space of time. Who the fuck cares, at least she’s no longer falling to her painful doom!

Eleanor moves one hand around his neck, the other moving to his back, her fingers touching something firm and soft that’s torn through his jacket. There’s a connection of bones, or whatever, that definitely weren’t there the night before when she gave him the now weekly massages. She dares to peek over to take a glimpse, but the damn things are flapping so fast, eager to get her as far away from the rocks and undercurrent below.

She keeps a tight grip on Michael as he moves her a bit farther away and across to a small section of the beach at the foot of the cliff. Eleanor takes a moment to breath before being ready to put her feet down, her knees turned to jelly with the shock of what just happened.

“You’re okay, you’re okay.” Michael assures her, his hands firm on her arms as he puts her down, waiting until she’s steady and standing on her own; “Boy, that was a close one!”

“You’re telling me!” Eleanor tries to catch her breath, the world still spinning around her, her stomach churning.

She’s tempted to summon Janet for a much-needed drink before she remembers why that isn’t an option. It looks like Janet won’t be available to be called upon for a while. Hence why Michael had to…

Eleanor blinks and steps back, her hands still held in Michael’s worried fingers, as he watches her with concern behind his glasses.

Her mouth widens as she gazes at what he seems to have either forgotten, or simply no longer cared, to put away.

“Aww! There they are!”

She beams up at the rather scatty, twitching pair of wings stretching out from Michael’s back. A few of the smaller, dirt brown feathers seem to be malting from nerves, the span of them probably a foot shorter than what Chris’ had been, yet still larger than a normal bird’s.

Michael glances over his shoulder and then groans, struggling to close them as they continue to flap anxiously.

“There, fine! You happy now?!” He sets his jaw, his face flushing more than it already was.

“They’re so cute! Why the fork didn’t you wanna show me them?” She tries to reach over to stroke one but Michael steps back, the right wing folding inward from her touch.

“Well…look at them! They’re so…boring.” He says, bringing the left one out so it’s closer to his view and giving it a look of disdain; “You saw how beautiful Chris’ were. Raven wings were all the rage back then and everyone loves the dragon-types even now. But no demon ever wants…these lame things! So small and dull.”

“What are you talking about, dingus?” Eleanor can’t help but laugh; “These small and dull wings just saved my fricken’ life! Or…afterlife, or…whatever, I’m grateful to them so don’t you dare go trash talking them, okay?”

She holds his hand to keep her close, her other reaching behind to gently stroke some of the primaries that twitch anxiously towards her.

It’s like trying to befriend a startled, wounded owl.

“Don’t you listen to him, you gorgeous things,” She coos at the wings; “Eleanor thinks you’re beautiful.”

“They don’t have a mind of their own, you may as well be talking to my foot.” Michael points out.

She grins and places her palms on either side of his dorky face.

“Then you must be the gorgeous thing I’m talking to who’s beautiful. So shut up.” She brings his face forward to crush her mouth against his, giving him a well-deserved kiss for that dashing rescue effort just now. He loosens against her, moving his hands to hold her closer as their feet settle neatly in the sand.

Eleanor blinks to catch a peak of Michael’s wings opening out wider and enclosing around them a little, as if to keep them in their own private cocoon for this sweet moment, not needing to worry about the chaos unfolding up above..

Oh, shirt!

She pulls back; “Fork! The Bad Janet! Jason and the others….We need to get back!”

“Got it…I guess I’m driving again.” He lets out a sigh and takes her in his arms again; “C’mon. If the humans see, we’ll just say your wings are at the dry-cleaners or something.”

Or something. Sometimes it hit Eleanor just how forking weird her new world is.

She gladly holds onto Michael again, linking her arms around his neck as his cute, tatty brown wings start to flap again until they’re airborne. She can’t help but watch them as they take flight and carry her upward, almost wanting to feel them again, hoping that Michael gives her the chance now that the cat is out of the bag.

*

“Do you really like them?” He asks her later, at sunset, when they’re back at the beach and they can finally rest.

Good old surprisingly reliable Jason, being able to slap a pair of magnet handcuffs on Bad Janet before she could do anymore harm. And thank fork Tahani was able to convince the humans that Janet was simply going through a glitch and the events of the day would be cancelled until her virus protection software had finished working.

They might have raised the humans, in particular pesky Simone’s, suspicions a little. But at least Derek had the neighbourhood somewhat under control for now.

The next part would be going to rescue their Janet first thing in the morning.

Before that, they have these last few hours to be together before him and Jason go riding across the tracks into the mouth of Hell. He’s going to enjoy them for all they’re worth, especially the knowledge that he there’s a huge chance they won’t make it back in one piece.

He sits with Eleanor on top of his discarded shirt, the most wonderful human he’s ever come across settled in his lap and continuing to admire his wings as they lean out past his arms towards her. A warm tingle runs through them and right to his spine when she strokes the tops with such loving care. Back long ago, the other demons used to tug and pull them roughly, one time nearly setting them on fire, the one time Michael ever felt afraid of being burned on something other than a sun. Trust him to get the slim pickings. Just his luck that he gets the joke pair.

And yet Eleanor keeps looking at them like they contain all the colors of the rainbow and more not visible to human eyesight. She’s found she loves to tickle them and feel them nuzzle against her cheek. Such a strange creature she is. Michael doesn’t think he’ll ever fully be able to predict how she will react…and that’s why he loves her so much.

“They’re so forking cool, dude. I think I love them more than I love you.”

He gives a low hum, peering devilishly at her; “You’re wicked, you know that.”

“And I pull it off better than you.” She grins, leaving him helpless to argue, “I mean…They’re kinda like… _eagle_ wings, y’know?”

There’s a sultry raise of her eyebrow at that last part, her heat levels rising, crackling around the edges of her aura. He wonders what part of that last comment was supposed to be arousing before he remembers…

Oh, for fork’s sake.

“I’m not wearing a muppet costume.” He tells her for the five billionth time.

Eleanor giggles, sweetly, moving to kiss him again.

“That’s fine. I guess you’re as close as I’m gonna get, _Sam_.” She teases and peppers her lips all over his face and down his neck, one of her hands stroking down his stomach and dangerously close to his pants.

Michael smiles to himself, counting himself lucky that he happened to fall in love with a human who has a slight avian fetish.

He leans in to kiss her this time, wanting to carry a taste of her with him when he goes to the Bad Place, just in case it’s all he has to take with him after Shawn scoops his essence out or locks him in a cell for eternity. This might be as close to the Good Place as a demon like him gets, being able to freely love Eleanor Shellstrop, to touch and taste and breathe her in, to feel her love vibrate from every brush of her fingertips against his skin suit. He’ll take it.

When he pulls back to look into her eyes, he sees the reflection of his wings for the first time in centuries. Oh. Is that what she sees?

Michael smiles, feeling them stretch and fold behind him, looking no longer a dull brown with flecks of grey in her irises. Instead they’re bronze, gold and silver, shimmering in the light of the sunset, looking far fuller and wider than the fragile rack of trembling feathers he’d been so ashamed of before. He feels a surge of courage in his chest with the knowledge of how Eleanor sees him, the vision she’ll keep of him after this night. He knows, more than ever, not to let her or their Janet down, and to make sure they all come back safe.

She hums against him before asking; "One more question...do you reckon they can keep you flying _during_ sex?"

For the love of...


End file.
